


Emergency Programme Number One

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked up to where the hologram projector would record him, and stood there. He did a quick calculation in his head, and was assured that this message would easily overwrite the last, and with some tinkering with his screwdriver, he could just slip in a couple of notes. He had things to say here that weren't in previous messages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Programme Number One

"Will she be safe?"

The words haunted his dreams, turning lovely fantasies and adventures and reminiscent memories into horrible nightmares, visions of danger and horrible turns of fate and ends and disasters beyond reckoning. His knowledgeable mind was his enemy as danger after danger erupted before him and snatched her away from him, time and again.

With a sigh, he sat in his chair, letting it spin from side to side slowly with hardly a creak. She was down the hall, sleeping like an angel, probably getting his rest for him.

As it was, she could have it. She could have anything of his, if she wanted it. He'd even do the whole of the Time War again if it was what she wanted. He'd face a million Dalek armies, brave the fires of hell or even plunge into a black hole for her. And he'd do it with honour.

But could he keep her safe?

It wasn't even Jackie he needed that answer for. He needed to answer it for himself. Could he do it? Was there any way he could assure her safety? Yeah, he'd always be there for her, but even though he was a Time Lord, he did end up getting himself knocked out and locked up on a far too regular basis. What if he was caught unawares and captured? Usually he could use his cleverness to not only escape and save the day, but more importantly he could rescue his... his Rose.

Oh, Rose. She was his flower. Big Bad Wolf? She was the Beauty to his Beast. The Christine to his Erik. She was the fairest thing in the world, brilliant, compassionate, courageous, his perfect equal. She had the love and care for the pitiful beast and she could feel pity for even the most revolting creature. She'd shown mercy towards a Dalek, and he couldn't say he ever would have done the same, had it not been that she'd asked him to.

He sighed. It was a wonder she was with him. She'd had a job, a family, even a mate at the time. Well... her father had something to do with it, obviously.

He gave a groan and buried his head in his hands. That was a stupid mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake. Taking her back in time... And over again. Why had he done it? Why? They'd even seen themselves! Paradoxes had very much abounded! Every moment of that trip, he was screaming to himself inside "Don't do it! Don't do it, you idiot, don't do it! It won't end well! You're going to disrupt the flow of time! You could be killed! You could both be killed! You're a fool!" And yet, he'd done it. He'd taken her there. Let her see what had happened. He'd comforted her in her time of need. He knew she would hurt, knew she would cry, knew she would feel her heart break once more, yet he did it. It was so cruel of him, but he did it. Why? Why would he make her hurt so?

"Because she asked me to." Oh, that was true well enough. Even as he looked into those eyes... those beautiful eyes of hers... even though he knew in a million years, he would regret it, knew it would not end well, knew disaster could be the only end... He did it. Without much prodding, just a look into those eyes, and he was like clay in her hands. He would do anything for her. Oh, if she knew it, she could be so powerful, so destructive... she could end a world. She could be more dangerous than a Time Lord God, and it was said they were very powerful. She could make him turn entire universes inside out if it were her fancy, and he'd do it. He desired very much to deny it, but it was true. He would do it. And then he'd use the TARDIS to go back in time and do it again and again and again and again, if it was what she wanted. He was a fool, to make himself so susceptible to one person. He was a fool.

But more than that, more than that he was a liability to the whole of Creation this way, puddy in the hands of a young girl - only 19! He was an idiot! He was nearly a thousand years old, and his hearts were tied, with a beautiful, brilliant, wonderful, caring and compassionate nineteen year old girl. He was a fool. She was going to be the death of him, he knew it. And then it hit him. What if something did happen to him? What if he truly did have to lay down his life for her? Would he do it? Sacrifice himself for her?

He sat up straight in his seat, steeling it in place with his feet, planted firmly on the ground.

He would do it! He'd give up the whole world if it meant Rose Tyler would live, and he would do it proudly. With honour, and without any regrets. What was he, after all? A coward. The destroyer of his own kind. The last Time Lord in existence. And if he did live, what would he have to show for it? Gallifrey was gone, and with it, the Looms that birthed his kind. His people was cursed. What could Rose Tyler look forward to with the Doctor? Absolutely nothing other than the mad running around the universe and all of time and space like they had been doing. He couldn't provide her with the things most normal girls wanted, human or not. He had no real occupation. He couldn't even tell her his real name. He was a useless old fool, with a thick head, a mad taste for the dangerous and foolhardy, and a temper and serious superiority complex.

"Cleverest in the Universe, I think I am," he muttered darkly to himself. Yes, oh so clever, but couldn't think of anything he had to offer her that would make her choose it. He couldn't even give her back her father. He couldn't give her a normal life.

God, a normal life. Holidays in the country, visiting a house of worship of some sort every week - hey, if he'd fight Daleks for her, he'd find a religion he could deal with - a nice house - even the thought of being trapped in the four walls made him shudder sometimes - with little tykes running around, a telly, no Time War, and chums over every week. If it pleased her, it could be nice, quiet life. No more danger or curses or enemies trying to destroy them. They could just... be. Be there, and be together. If that could be managed, it could very well be quite perfect.

But it would never be. There would be no holidays in the country. There would never be an end to the danger that followed him like a black plague. It was like he was constantly running from the Grip Reaper, leaving the deceased in his wake, and throwing everything he saw at Death, defying him, always just managing to escape, always just leaving, never leaving time for goodbyes or making plans or even a simple quick fun spot. It'd never happen with him. Everywhere he went, he was like a magnet for trouble. And the tykes would never come. His people were cursed to never bare children again. He didn't want to think of what look of disgust she might conjure up on that pretty face of hers when he'd explain that. It was probably better that there were no Looms to show her. How would she react when he explained why he would be the last, forever? And he would stay the last, forever. Rose Tyler will not make it much past a century, maybe an extra fifty years with some of the technology he knew. But she'd still grow old. She'd never live a normal life. She'd die an old maid who wasted her years running after him and his fairy tales, not knowing that if she ever tripped, if she ever got too far away from him, Death would be waiting to snatch her up. Ready to take her out, and then maybe, just maybe, then the old bloke would have a chance to catch him. The Oncoming Storm, the Doctor, the Last of the Time Lords; he'd finally be held accountable for his actions. And after that the Judgment. To account for the destruction of his own people, for the wasting of her life. For any of the other crimes he'd committed against the various worlds he'd visited. After all, the Daleks and Torchwood weren't the only ones who kept an eye on him, wishing for his destruction. Even if old Grim didn't get her right away - and her name was written in his book somewhere - some enemy of his would catch her. It would be unpleasant. It would probably be cruel, ruthless, and terrifying. He couldn't allow that.

He needed to do something. Something now. Something that could set his mind at ease... something that would comfort her whenever that happened. She was a tough soul, but a fragile one at the same time. It was one of the things he loved about humans, their spunk, but also their compassion, and not just for their fellow men. Well, for the most part, anyway.

From his pocket, he withdrew his screwdriver. It shined up at him, smiling, reminding him of their good times together in the past. It reassured him. Life would go on. He'd gone through so many companions in the past. Even a few screwdrivers. Couldn't one of his companions go through him?

He nodded, decided. It could happen. And he'd make sure it'd happen. With a new determination, he made his way to his door, but was quiet as he opened it. Not two doors down was her door, ajar. The dim light from the hallway slipped into her room, illuminating her soft features, her lips curled in a light smile on her face. She was probably dreaming, and he was unafraid to wonder to himself if it was about him. He dreamed of her, often enough. He quietly made his way down the hall and up the stairs, to the main console of the TARDIS.  
The golden and amber room glowed about him, welcoming him. It wasn't just that this was his ship, his home away from home. It was a reminder of the great people he'd come from. It was a slice of Gallifrey, and it was his. He wondered sometimes what secrets it held - what it could do that he had yet to learn. The TARDIS was not just a spaceship, it was like a time capsule, in the most literal sense. He moved to the monitor, and pushed a couple buttons, and then flipped a switch.

"Beginning recording." He looked up to where the hologram projector would record him, and stood there. He did a quick calculation in his head, and was assured that this message would easily overwrite the last, and with some tinkering with his screwdriver, he could just slip in a couple of notes. He had things to say here that weren't in previous messages. Flickering slightly, it came on. There was a light tone - Rose wouldn't hear it - and the recording began to speak.

"This is Emergency Programme One."

He remembered recording this shortly after Rose joined him on the TARDIS. He always had this message programmed in, just in case he was captured. "Rose, now listen; this is important." A pause for her to pay attention, but not too long. "If this message is activated, then it can mean only one thing"

He fought to keep his face tranquil. Any sudden moves, and the camera would start recording, and there was no need for him to rerecord this again - getting all the details right took a while. "We must be in danger. And I mean fatal. I'm dead or about to die any second with no chance of escape." He had the message programmed to play from a command from in his screwdriver so he could activate it from afar, for safety reasons. It was always something he wanted to make clear - that he was okay with dying. He'd lived for almost a thousand years - that's a lot longer than most lifeforms, and he'd not earned whatever slow death the fates had waiting for him if he escaped. And yet, it sounded so depressing, so he'd added, "Hope it's a good death."

Aye, it'd be rather sad if it wasn't a good death, he thought to himself. He'd lived a good life, he at least deserved a good death. The humour was reassuring, he had thought when he'd said it. And his companions knew he did mean it. Jackie's words rang once more in his mind, and he cut in. "But I promised to look after you, and that's what I'm doing. The TARDIS is taking you home." He'd scheduled it for seven years after she'd met him. That way, they wouldn't land there accidentally, or so he hoped. Usually, he'd say "Earth" there, but "home" came out. Actually, it had a nicer ring to it. He kept it.

At this point, she'd be screaming or something for sure, demanding him to send her back - she had a habit for it. "And I bet you're fussing and moaning now - typical." It really was, but she was so cute when she was angry... "But hold on and just listen a bit more." It would be bad for her to destroy the TARDIS in her frustration. He couldn't begin to think what it would do to defend itself. He let it play again, and the new recording meshed in with the old so that she would not be able to tell later. "The TARDIS can never return for me. Emergency Programme One means I'm facing an enemy that should never get their hands on this machine. So this is what you should do: let the TARDIS die."

Even now, listening to the recording, the light flickering lightly around him, he felt a depression of sorts fall upon him, that he wasn't sure was the fact that he regretted the loss of his ship, or if it was the ship expressing its desire not to die. He'd felt the same thing when he'd done the recording numerous times before, and after a while he'd assumed it was the TARDIS, hoping it could convince him out of it, but he always continued.

"Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it; no one will even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world will move on and the box will be buried."

Here he cut in again, the words that had floated through his mind in his room not too long before coming out of his mouth, sounding far more cliched in the open air than they had even in his head. "--And if you wanna remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all. One thing--"

At that moment, he heard a sound, and turned to see Rose there, looking up at him, blearily, her eyes unseeing, and cloudy with sleep.

"Doctor?" she asked.

He looked to her - she did this occasionally, getting up in the middle of the night. She didn't always remember it in the morning. And so, he continued.

"Have a good life. Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life." He touched the button on his screwdriver, and the flickering light faded away. She cocked her head up at him, confused, not all there.

"What time is it?" she asked, moving towards him, shuffling her feet.

He smiled. "Far too late," he answered softly, taking her in his arms as she rested her head against his shoulder, murmuring to herself as she wrapped her own arms loosely about him. He held her there, and he stroked her hair, resting his lips upon her head. "You should be sleeping."  
She murmured again, shifting slightly. "Yeah..." she yawned, her eyes closed. He smiled down on her. She wouldn't remember this in the morning.

"Come on, you," he said, picking her up lightly, lifting her feet off the ground. "Let's get you to bed"

She didn't put up any resistance as she lay in his arms. He lightly padded back to her room, where her sheets were ruffled. Moving them aside, he placed her on the bed, and she gave a happy, tired sigh as she was lowered into the bed. Smiling, he covered her up with the comforter, and tucked her in. She snuggled into the covers, a smile on her face.

"Good night, Rose," he said softly.

"'Night, Doctor," she answered in little more than a whisper.

He smiled down at her pretty face, and then slipped out of the room. He stole one last look at her and blew her a quiet kiss as he closed the door.

In the hall, he sighed. Letting her go was going to be a lot harder than he thought.


End file.
